


A New Target

by Olligreen



Category: Mr. Robot (TV)
Genre: Gen, Post-Season/Series 03, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-12
Updated: 2018-11-12
Packaged: 2019-08-22 10:57:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 12,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16596560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Olligreen/pseuds/Olligreen
Summary: This was originally a fanfic written daily on the Mr. Robot Amino. Each chapter is ~1000 words, and was written and edited in about a day. There are very likely a few spelling/grammatical errors. Feel free to point them out so they can be fixed!





	1. A New Target

His tired eyes stared blankly forward as his hands moved on their own, and a silk tie suddenly appeared on his neck. He was still dreaming, still feeling the unfathomably dark void of emptiness that was his bed. A jacket slipped it’s way onto his shoulders through some means or another. He didn’t have time to think about it, there was far too much to do today.

7:00: wake up

8:00: work

9:00: work

10:00: work

11:00: meet with a man whose life is more shallow and meaningless than yours

12:00: work

13:00: work

14:00: work

15:00: cry at your desk and smile when someone walks by

16:00: go home

17:00: work

18:00: break something irreplaceable

19:00: whos at the door?

That’s not on the schedule.

His tired eyes blinked open, and he finally woke from his walking dream state. He took a moment to stare, to be sure the knocking was real. He didn’t need to end up like Elliot. The knocking only grew louder, each bang bringing him further into reality. The feeling was bittersweet, as it wasn’t a reality he was quite fond of. He felt his lungs constrict as his fingers touched the metal of the doorknob, then the door swung open.

Death filled his mind.

“Which one?” The words left his mouth without thought behind them.  
The man who stood on the other side of the partition’s eyes wandered downwards “You gonna use that or what?”

Tyrell followed his eyes. He had picked up a gun on the way to the door. He hadn’t even felt it until now. He looked back up, eyes wide, then shook his head.

The other man nodded, then invited himself inside, fearlessly pushing past the armed man. “The one you want.” he answered.

Tyrell frowned, feeling a flame light in his chest. “I don’t  _ want _ either of you.”

A dark laugh left Mr. Robot’s lips, and Tyrell felt the air grow colder.

“Why are you here?” He spoke with shaking breath as he shut the door and made a few steps toward the unwanted guest. “Get out of my home.” His voice roared, letting out some well-kept tension.

“I have a proposition for you.” 

“I don’t want to hear anything you have to say!”

“Elliot and I are working together again. We have a plan.” His voice was dripping with rebellion and delirium.

“I don’t care about your plan! You’re fucking psychotic!”

He turned, a sickening emptiness on his face. “We’re going after the Dark Army.”

Tyrell’s face drained, and his heart filled with spines. “You’re what?” He let the silence hold him for a second, but it only pushed the spines in further. “Leave me out of this. You’re insane. You’ll get me killed!”

“You’re gonna just let them off with nothing after what they did to you?” His voice suddenly had flame behind it, his eyes intense.”What they did to--”

Tyrell’s body lurched forward and his gun’s safety clicked, it’s barrel finding a home just beneath Mr. Robot’s jawline. “Be very careful with the next words you say.”

Mr. Robot, in fact, said nothing, and the room was taken by silence for a few, very long seconds.

“My wife is not a bargaining chip. She’s not some symbol you can use to coerce me into doing your bidding.”

Elliot looked up into Tyrell’s eyes, then looked away. “I know. I’m sorry. I just want you to think, Tyrell.”

His head raised a bit, and the gun adjusted it’s position. Poor choice of words.

His eyes closed tight, his hands jittering. “The Dark Army should have always been our target.  _ They’re _ the ones who fucked us over. They fucked us all over, and they’ll fuck everyone over, and they’ll always get away with it.” His voice was uncalm, with an unsteady volume, and yet it was genuine.

Tyrell remained silent, and the pressure of the gun eased up a bit, letting Elliot breathe a little easier. 

He opened his eyes, and looked into Tyrell’s, occasionally looking away to catch a breath. “E-Corp’s fucked. There are people everywhere who hate them just as much as we do, but the Dark Army is silent. If we don’t end them, no one will.” He made his unstable gaze as intense as he could.

The air was heavy with emptiness. Five seconds passed in an hour, then Tyrell lowered the gun and set it carefully on the table. 

Elliot sighed in relief as the room lightened substantially.

“Which one now?” Tyrell’s voice was shallow, his eyes kept fixed on Elliot, unyielding.

He paused, unsure of how to phrase his answer. “The other one.”

“The one that tried to destroy our work?” There was a distant anger in his words.

Elliot nodded, though hesitantly.

Tyrell nodded back, looking up and pacing toward the door. “I think I prefer this one.”

An inexplicable joy leapt in Elliot’s chest, which confused him greatly.

Tyrell nodded again, pacing back toward Elliot, but only letting himself make eye contact for less than a second, he then paced back. “Who else is involved?”

“My sister, Darlene, and Mr. Robot.”

Tyrell stopped, and glanced at Elliot, horribly confused.

“The other one.”

He curled his lips. “That’s a strange name.”

He didn’t disagree, nor did he say anything at all. He just sort of stared into nothingness for a moment.

Tyrell simply exchanged a deep breath, then moved on toward the door. He would have to become accustomed to Elliot’s… condition. Having made his decision, he grabbed his jacket from a hook next to the door, and slipped it on, then grabbed the handgun from the table and shoved it in the jacket’s side pocket. He gave Elliot a final nod, then headed out the door, expecting that he would follow behind.


	2. Come Together

The pair made their way wordlessly onto the streets. Men in an armored vehicle shouted incoherently from afar, but it’s not like it mattered what they said. They were in the presence of a pantheon, slowly growing to take on the titans that made them. Tyrell’s eyes were locked forward, his mind sticking very closely to this moment, and the days to come. Still, the past was present. This was far too familiar, and, although the chocolate voice of revenge beckoned him, the footsteps that followed him were foreboding at best, fatal at worst. Regardless, he couldn’t go back. The bridges behind him were crumbling as he walked along them. Even if they hadn’t, there was nothing for him on the other side. At least Elliot--... What was his obsession with him? He would look in his eyes and see the only thing that mattered; the only thing worth protecting. All else could burn away, even himself, and the world would be the same as it was before. But, still, he was just some kid, like him, out of his depth.

They wandered, still silent, still each alone -- or as alone as they could be -- in their own realm of thought, and found themselves on a subway platform, sitting on opposite sides of a bench. Then, after some time, a train pulled up and, without one having to tell the other, they both got on. 

Tyrell sat across from Elliot, who was staring off, likely having some conversation that Tyrell would never know a word of. Perhaps it was the mystery. Such little can be known about a person with two minds. Then again, that mystery was mutual, wasn’t it?

He was becoming belabored with the silence, and felt the need to speak. “Elliot.” He said.

There was no response.

“Elliot.” He said again, this time a little louder. 

Mr. Robot turned to him.

“Is your sister gonna be there?”

He nodded, then stared off again, as if it were the end of the conversation.

“Does--... Does she know I’m on your side? What if she--...?”

“I told her we needed numbers, but I haven’t told her who’s coming.”

Tyrell felt his confidence shudder a bit, then he felt the cool metal of the gun against his hip and became far more calm. “I see.”  
“She might need some convincing, but she’ll have to deal with it.”

Tyrell nodded, and was tacit for the rest of the ride. He recalled the layout of Elliot’s apartment as well as he could and then thought of each location he could use as cover if things went poorly. As the train came to a stop, he was pondering the chances that Darlene would need to die, and the consequences to he and Elliot’s relationship. The idea terrified him. Elliot got up from his seat and sped out of the train without a word, and Tyrell followed quickly behind.

Now, Elliot was in the lead, forcing Tyrell to walk substantially faster than he was before. He was worried that his suit would look disheveled by the time he got to the apartment. How embarrassing. After only a few minutes, they made a sharp turn into his apartment building, then they passed Elliot’s door, and made a beeline toward one a few doors down. This unexpected turn brought Tyrell back to that fear he felt in the subway car. He hadn’t planned for a different apartment. Fearlessly, Elliot opened the door and bolted inside, leaving Tyrell in the doorway.

“Good, you’re here. You have to give me the encryption key for--...” Darlene’s eyes met with her guest’s, and then widened.

Shit. The room was empty, nothing but a computer desk and a few bags strewn about a bare floor. There was nothing to hide behind. Tyrell was frozen.

Her head whipped back to Elliot, who was presently opening some package filled with an assortment of wires. “What the  _ fuck  _ is he doing here?” She asked.

Elliot didn’t look up from his work. “Darlene, we’re short in numbers--”

“Elliot, he’s a fucking psychopath, numbers aren’t worth having him.”

“I’m right here!” Tyrell chimed in, unable to stop himself.

“That being the fucking problem!”

“SHUT UP!” The room fell silent at Mr. Robot’s outburst. He gave the two a cold glare. “Killing the Dark Army is far more important than your fucking morality contest, plus, Darlene, you’re not winning any awards for what you did either.”

Darlene suddenly tensed, her eyes darting towards the walls. “What are you talking about?”

“Oh, what, you think I don’t know what happened with ‘Madam Executioner’?” Mr. Robot’s stare was unrelenting.

Both were paralyzed by it.

“Does--...” Darlene started, her voice soft and slightly wavering. “Does Elliot--...?”

“No, he doesn’t know shit, and he won’t know.”

She sighed in relief, swallowing her heart back down as Tyrell attempted to collect himself. The two exchanged some uncomfortable glances and noticed that felt the same exact emotion. 

“So, what do we need to do?” Tyrell asked very carefully.

“First thing is numbers.” As he talked, Mr. Robot was wandering all about the room plugging an assortment of gadgets into their one computer. “Regardless of what we have, four is not enough people behind this attack.”

“Well, how many people were involved with fsociety, what, ten?” Tyrell finally stepped fully into the room and shut the door behind him.

Darlene leaned back in her chair, annoyed. “Five--...”

“Well, there you go--...”

“But we also had the Dark Army, dumbass. Can’t exactly get their help while exterminating them, can we?” 

Tyrell opened his mouth to speak, but Mr. Robot interrupted him. “Unless we can.”

The two others looked on in confusion, then Tyrell said what they were both thinking. “How do you expect us to do that? They’re not stupid.”

“No, but they are big. A few of their men gone rogue will be nothing for them to worry about.”

“But, Elliot,” Darlene started, “we’ve seen what kinds of shit they have on these people, I mean, look at what they did to Dom--”

“Exactly.” Mr. Robot sent Darlene a foreboding glance, and she shifted uncomfortably in her chair.

“We are not getting Dom to help us.” Darlene stated sternly.

Mr. Robot gave tacit disagreement.

“Dude, she fucking hates my guts. She will never come to our side. And even if she does, I don’t want to manipulate her like that again. I feel like shit just doing it once.”

“We don’t have to manipulate her, we just have to convince her.” Elliot shot Darlene an unsteady glance.

“Convince her to let her family die? Elliot, it’s not happening.”

“Sorry, hold on,” Tyrell had almost been forgotten by the two others, “who are we talking about?”

Darlene sighed aggressively. “She’s an FBI agent that--...”

“What!?” Tyrell screamed, flames in his eyes. “There is no fucking way we’re involving the FBI!”

In a moment, Tyrell felt cold hands wrap viciously around his throat, and his back hit the wall behind him. The infernos were frozen, and his heart solidified into pure ice. He looked down, and Mr. Robot stared back at him with the intensity of a thousand winters. 

“Stop. Yelling.” 

He felt a hand that wasn’t his own reach into his jacket, and pull out the handgun that he held so dear. Tyrell felt absolutely powerless. Then, the hands slipped off his neck, and he took a painful breath into his starved lungs. 

The gun was set onto the desk, and Elliot walked away like nothing had happened.


	3. Meeting With Dom

“So, here’s what we planned.” Elliot spread a paper copy of the FBI precinct across the wall and fastened it in a perfectly straight position. The other two watched on, unwilling to speak, as he described the points of entry, possible placements of Dom, and plans for each of those placements. The three felt prepared enough to take on an army, which of course they had to be, though each had varying levels of fear clawing at the back of their minds. 

Tyrell’s fear was the greatest. The precinct was very possibly the least comfortable place he could imagine being. Still, it appeared that Elliot, or whoever this was, took that into account, as he had the easiest job. He kept this in mind, up until he had the building in his sights, and his weapon was returned to his person. 

The three entered at different times, at different entrances, each with a phone in their hands sending out a signal of Elliot’s creation that deactivates cameras as they walk along. They converged at an office, from which Dom was missing. They checked a meeting room, no meeting. Then, they decided to wait, as planned, in Dom’s office. Darlene and Tyrell were placed on the hinge-side of each entrance, with Elliot sat at her computer with a rubber duck. 

Tyrell’s breathing was perhaps a bit too unsteady. He was having a visible reaction to the atmosphere, and the silence sated only with the clicking of a keyboard was unhelpful. Darlene shot him a glare and he tried to calm himself down, although she didn’t seem to be doing much better herself. Elliot finished, then sat beneath Dom’s desk, panicked, but not visibly so.

After a few minutes of thick silence, Tyrell’s door opened and Dominique entered the room. As planned, though with a heavier hand than expected, Tyrell shut the door behind her and stood in front of it, his face suddenly blank of any emotion whatsoever.

Dom whipped around, her hand placed instinctually on her gun clip. Tyrell did the same. “What is this?” She asked, fear and death in her eyes in equal measure. “We gave you what you wanted.” Death took over.

“This isn’t about him.” Mr. Robot said plainly from behind her. She turned, and pulled her gun on him with a smooth, quick motion. Her safety seemed to click twice. As Darlene stepped forward, surrounding her, Dom felt a gun barrel against the back of her head. 

Her face drained, and her eyes directed specifically at Darlene. She lowered her gun. “Okay. What is it you want to take from me now?”

Without being shot, Darlene felt a bullet go through her chest, and became unable to speak.

Mr. Robot stepped forward, blank faced. “We’re not taking anything from you. We just need you on our side.”

“You can just shoot me now, because that’s not gonna happen.” 

Tyrell shot Mr. Robot a glance, and he shook his head. “We realize what they have on you--...”

“Do you? So, then why are you here?” Dom was fearless, or perhaps empty entirely.

“You saw what they did to Santiago.” 

“So, you’re gonna threaten my family too? Get in line.” Her words were pointed like daggers, but her tone was painfully wounded. Darlene felt that bullet again.

“They did that because they were done with him. What do you think they’ll do when they’re done with you?” Mr. Robot’s speech was calloused and empty, scaring Darlene and impressing Tyrell.

Dom wept, her eyes wincing shut as her walls crumbled around her. She collected herself as much as possible before speaking. “I’m gonna ask again. What do you want from me?”

“We want to kill the Dark Army.” Darlene finally spoke, suddenly fully engaged.

Dom looked at Darlene in desperation, unsure what to think at the moment.

Darlene attempted to remain composed, then she looked up at Tyrell. “Get the fucking gun off her head, she’s not gonna shoot us.” 

Tyrell gasped a bit, glanced at Elliot, who said nothing, then did as he was told, letting Dom breathe a calmer breath.

Darlene looked back at Dom, with the certain uncomfortable compassion she showed very infrequently. “All we’re asking you to do is keep anything you find out about us out of their ears.”

“FBI’s too.” Mr. Robot chimed in. 

“Well, we’re attacking terrorists, Elliot. I don’t think the FBI will be against that.”

“They’d be against this.”

“Alright, fine.” Dom broke their conversation. “But not for you guys. Remember that. I’m doing this for my family.” 

Darlene nodded in understanding, and the room went silent for a cold moment.

“Are you guys gonna explain this though?” Dom gestured back at Tyrell, whose eyes widened in sudden fear.

“Elliot said it was numbers,” Darlene started, “But honestly I think he just needs to get laid--”

“There’s no time for this, let’s go.” Elliot pushed Tyrell aside and walked out the door with twice his usual quickness. Tyrell followed behind, an eyebrow raised in intrigue and confusion. 

“Told ya’.” Darlene smirked as she followed them out, leaving a windswept Dom behind her. 

She stood alone in the room staring at the open door for a moment. “Am I supposed to follow you?” She pondered for a second, then went along. 


	4. Investigation

The train car, though empty, was the most crowded place Dom had been in a long time. Tyrell Wellick sat at her left, who, of course, she had never wanted to meet in the first place. Then, Darlene, of all people, sat at her right. Darlene Alderson. The words seemed to function like a flesh-devouring acid on her brain. But, when she looked forward, she saw Elliot Alderson, of whom she had a far more complicated opinion. His decisions were often contradictory. It even seemed, in some cases, like he was fighting himself, making one move, then making the opposite, putting him right back where he was before. 

“What’s your goal in all of this?” She asked, leaning forward to be further away from the two she was sitting beside. “Why risk your lives to get rid of them?”

Elliot looked up from his trance, making eye contact with Dom for a second, then, he looked away again.

Dom gave it a moment, then sighed, defeated. She’d never get a word from him, would she?

“You’re right.” Mr. Robot said, his eyes shifting to Dom, and staying steady. “This is probably the stupidest idea we’ve ever had.” He was passive-aggressive, as if he were targeting his words to someone specifically, but none of the others took any offense. 

“So, why are you doing it?”

Elliot shrugged and looked away, then glanced at Dom. “People like you, I guess.” He spoke very casually. “And him.” He looked up at Tyrell, gesturing lightly to him with a nod of his head. 

To Dom, it seemed Tyrell had even less of an idea what Elliot was talking about than she did. She looked back to Elliot for answers.

Elliot explained nothing, and continued to stare at the floor.

The ride was uninteresting after that point. Darlene hadn’t even experienced the conversation, it seemed, as she was staring out the window, letting the shaking and turning of the car move her as if she were a corpse. Elliot acted similarly, although he did seemed engaged in something, just not the reality of the people around him. Tyrell was a mess, clearly panicking still, his hands grabbing tightly onto his shirt during the whole ride, as to keep them from shaking. By the time the doors opened and they all got out, he had a crumpled, untucked bit of cloth hanging from that side, which he ignored entirely. 

Something was very different, and very wrong with each person in this group, and Dom knew it. She stuck behind them as they walked back to Elliot’s apartment, keeping an eye on each of them, and how they were acting. She couldn’t contain those old instincts, though perhaps they won’t be abandoned once the Dark Army is dead.

Oh, who was she kidding? They won’t die. How could they? It’s four against-- three against possibly millions. She couldn’t consider herself a part of them until she knew who she was working with, and, at this point, she wasn’t entirely sure.

“So, this is what we’re working with.” Darlene walked first into the empty apartment, sitting down at the single desk and booting up the single computer. 

“This?” Dom started, half laughing. “This is what’s gonna kill the Dark Army?”

“Yep!” Darlene leaned back in her chair. She looked over at Elliot, who was messing with the wires again. “Dude, Elliot! Encryption keys! I asked for them like two years ago!” 

Elliot sighed, then walked over to the computer. The two had a conversation full of words that Dom couldn’t guess the meaning of if she tried. Instead, she looked over at Tyrell, who was clicking the safety of his gun open and closed, his finger carefully positioned off of the trigger. There was a void-like emptiness in his expression, that one might be able to fall into, then never escape from.

“Hey.” She walked over to him, and spoke in a half-whisper. “I heard about what happened.”

Tyrell glared at her, that same emptiness suddenly feeling very cold. Then, he looked back to his gun.

Dom recovered from the hateful expression, and spoke. “I just wanted to say that I’m sorry.”

His expression changed almost imperceptibly, but just enough to alert Dom that she was doing a good thing.

“I mean, I didn’t know the Dark Army would--”

“The Dark Army didn’t--...” Tyrell started, looking up from his gun but not looking at Dom. He then looked down again. “They weren’t involved in that.”

“Oh!” Her voice was a bit louder in her surprise, but then she recovered. “I just thought, because of what Elliot said.”  
“They lied, the Dark Army.” The clicking of the gun suddenly became more quick, and more aggressive. “They told me she was alive.”

Dom frowned, staying silent, waiting for the clicking to slow down.

It didn’t. “She was the only fucking reason I continued. They told me I’d go home. They told me she’d--”

“Would you fucking quit it with the clicking, for fucks sake?” Darlene finally yelled. 

Tyrell looked up at Darlene with pure, agonizing hatred, stood, put the gun in his pocket, then threw the chair he was sitting in across the room. It crashed hard against the wall, and wood splinters scattered across the floor. He then walked out of the room and slammed the door behind him with such a loud bang that it was surprising it didn’t fall off its hinges. 

The room was completely silent.


	5. Chasing Tyrell

“Holy shit.” Darlene finally spoke into the thick silence, though she hardly made an impression. Mr. Robot continued to work, typing away as if nothing had happened, meanwhile Dom stared solemnly and thoughtfully at the door. 

“Will he be alright?” Dom asked, turning back to Darlene with a concerned look.

Darlene only shrugged, and Elliot didn’t react at all. 

She sighed deeply, then, without a word, she opened the door and walked out of the room.

Darlene caught the door and followed her out. “Hold up. Where do you think you’re going?”

“To get Tyrell.” She was bitter, unyielding, and didn’t look back.

Darlene made chase. “He could kill you. Just let him blow off some steam.”

She turned. “What, so he can strangle some poor stranger to death?” Her words were like blunt weapons. “Or shoot somebody, or shoot himself with the gun you guys stupidly let him have?”

Darlene hesitated, unable to argue against her logic. “Fine, but I’m coming with you.”

Dom sighed, realized her time limit, then turned around and continued moving. Darlene followed suit. 

They ran down the steps and saw that Tyrell had only gone a few blocks, and was arguing loudly with a cab driver. They had seconds. Dom ran as fast as she could, leaving Darlene behind.

“Hey! Hey wait, FBI!” She yelled, even pulling out her badge in a last ditch effort to scare the driver, but it was in vain. The cab door closed with Tyrell inside and sped off. “Dammit!”

Darlene caught up to Dom, phone in hand. “Come on, let’s get on the subway. I’ll get Elliot to give me his address on the way.” She continued forward, Dom staying at her side.

“You think he’s at his house?”

“It’s our best bet. I don’t know where else he would go.” Darlene seemed far more out of breath than Dom, hardly getting out more than a few words at a time.

They walked as quickly as they could without attracting suspicion, then made it to the subway platform. Darlene paced back and forth, staring at her phone, trying to keep her face blank, and Dom was sitting on a bench, staring forward. 

“Why won't he fucking answer?!” Darlene was slowly losing her composure, though she wasn’t sure why. She didn’t care about Tyrell. He’d probably just head home, slam a few drinks, break a few things, and go to bed. There was no reason for her to be this anxious.

“Just relax. He’ll answer.” Dom was speaking more to herself than to Darlene, as she saw Tyrell as an immediate threat, and thought that any victim’s blood would be on her hands. She shouldn’t have poked him like that. 

Darlene continued to pace, breathing heavy, her face curling into terror. “It’s not that fucking simple, okay!?” Her voice was desperate, and she breathed in a wheeze, shaking uncontrollably. Tears made her phone screen blurry, and it threatened to fall from her hands.

Dom looked up, then stood quickly, realizing what was happening was far worse than she thought. She put a hand on her back. “Hey, hon. Just sit down, alright? Breathe slow.” She tried to make her voice as calm as she possibly could, guiding Darlene to the bench, where she slowly sat. She took the phone from her hand. “The phone’s my job now, alright? Everything’s gonna be okay. All you gotta do is breathe. Can you do that for me?” 

Darlene gave a hesitant nod, holding tightly onto the edge of the bench. She breathed in deeply, then out shallowly, in shallowly, out deeply, for a few beats, then finally she came to a steady rhythm. “I’m gonna fucking kill him.” She managed to speak between breaths.

Dom laughed. “Yeah, me too, hon.” She gave her a pat on the shoulder, then heard a notification from the phone, attracting her attention. “He sent the address.” Her tone changed, and she stood immediately. Darlene did the same, and they continued their chase. 

The subway car felt far less cramped this time around. There were only two people on it, and the muffled clamor of the train kept it from being uncomfortably silent. Still, she was sitting beside Darlene Alderson, who she had just helped out of a panic attack, while chasing after Tyrell Wellick. Today was a strange day.

“I’m sorry you had to deal with that.” Darlene sat with her head angled up, resting against the window. “I know I’ve been nothing but awful to you, and--...”

“Don’t mention it.” Dom interrupted, unwilling to let her have the closure of apology. “I’d have done it for anyone.”

Darlene’s heart dropped, and suddenly that crowded feeling came back.

Dom, against her logic, glanced at Darlene, and felt the same pain. Fuck. Why couldn’t she just let her live with the guilt of what she did? It’s not like she didn’t deserve it. She told herself to apologize, but what for? “Look, I don’t know if you and your brother are gonna succeed in doing this, but I do appreciate that you’re trying.” 

Darlene picked up her head, and gave her a short nod and a slight smile, making an attempt. 

That’s all she needed to do.

The train came to a stop, and they both launched up and ran out as quickly as they could, then made their way to the address. Darlene shot Elliot a ‘nice response time, asshole.’ as they went along.

Dom knocked on the door with all her might. “Tyrell it’s Dom! You in there!?” She shouted, desperate.

No response.

Dom knocked a few more times, then Darlene sighed, pulling a black box of tools out of her purse. “Fuck it.” She began picking the lock of the door, and got them both inside within seconds. 

Tyrell was there, whimpering in a ball on the floor next to a shattered photograph and a pile of white lace. Everything in the house was destroyed. Pillows and cushions were torn and their contents splayed across the floor, the walls were full of holes, bottles in shards. It was unrecognizable. The two who entered were afraid to move, though it seemed Tyrell was too upset to notice them, or care. The sound of his sobbing was the only sound in the room.

Dom was the first to step forward. “Did you--” With a closer look she saw that Tyrell’s hands weren’t bloody. He couldn’t have this. “What happened?” She approached him carefully, being as compassionate as she could.

Tyrell looked up, his face tear stained and frenzied. He parted his lips slightly, then, unable to get out a word, his eyes winced shut, and he sobbed again. He then pointed toward the bedroom, and fell back into a pile on the floor.

Dom followed his point, and moved quickly, Darlene staying close behind. They entered Tyrell’s bedroom, but weren’t able to make a step forward, staring in horror at the wall above his bed.

The painted face of a red dragon stared back at them.


	6. Horror Vacui

Fear pulsed in Dom’s brain, and all sounds were reduced to a muffled droning. Her eyes flashed with pictures of a bloodied axe, and her heart pounded through her bones and into her ears. She could only think in horror stories and unyielding dread. 

Darlene, with heavy breath, grabbed her phone forcefully from Dom’s hand, who was far too terrified to care. She sped back to the door, talking frantically as she went along. “I’m going back to Elliot’s. He needs to know about this.”

The door slammed shut, and slowly, the cold reality came back to her, and Tyrell’s distressed noises entered back into her perception. She felt a pain rise in her chest, and ran back to him.

He was clutching onto a shard of glass, blood trickling down his fingers and onto the carpet. His grip was so tight on the thing that it would surely break within moments, shooting each piece deeply into the flesh of his hand. 

She felt panic, and leaned down to try to take the shard from him. “Stop that. You’re hurting yourself.”  
Tyrell dropped the glass and grabbed her arm, his face still hidden, and she felt the panic grow. He felt her pulse increase with at his grasp, and the pressure of it simply melted away to nothing, leaving her with no answers, and a red handprint on her forearm.

“Do you--...” Her heart still pounding, she knelt down beside him, choosing her words very carefully. “Do you have someone you can stay with?”

“I can get a hotel.” His words came out broken, like his throat was dysfunctional.

“No, hon, you shouldn’t be alone right now.” 

“Why do you care?” He looked up at her with a hateful, yet fatigued expression.

She didn’t know the answer to his question, but responded anyway. “I just don’t want you hurting yourself anymore, alright?” She stood, offering him a hand. “Here, I’ll help you up.”

Tyrell took her offer, being sure to use the hand that wasn’t bleeding. 

“You can stay with me in my apartment tonight. That sound alright?”

He was distracted, staring longingly at the pile of wood and white fabric that he had collapsed next to. Still, he gave a nod.

Dom reached an arm up onto one of his shoulders, and guided him toward the door. “Come on, best not to dwell on it.”

He followed along, but seemed to be completely unaware of his surroundings. He shambled next to her like a dead man, unable to say a word from the time they left his house to the time they got to Dom’s apartment, and even then he simply stood at the door, staring.

“Do you want something to eat?” Dom tried desperately to make conversation. She wandered to the fridge. “We’ve got… some hot pockets. Leftover chinese…” She laughed. “Man, I eat the same shit I did when I was in college. Aren’t people supposed to grow out of that?” She smiled, then looked over at Tyrell.

He was expressionless and hollow, staring off at a wall. “Why are you doing this?” He said, his throat still broken.

Dom’s smile faded, and she closed the fridge with a quiet sigh. “I don’t know.” She walked over to the couch and pathetically dropped onto it, staring into the blackness of her television. 

After a few quiet seconds, Tyrell sat down beside her, slouching forward. “Everything I’ve done to you--... It doesn’t make sense for you to be doing this.”  
“Yeah, I know.” She mumbled, distracted. She truly had no better idea of her motives than Tyrell did, and the more she picked the situation apart, the less sense it made.

“Look, now I’ve even stained your carpet.”

Dom looked down, and a few drips had fallen from Tyrell’s still-bleeding hand, and were slowly sinking into her floor. She shot up immediately. “Shit, I forgot. I gotta get you some bandages for that.” She hurried to the bathroom and brought back a first aid kit.

Tyrell tried to avoid her face as she wrapped gauze around his hand, focusing on an odd, unpleasant feeling that was growing in his chest.

The room was quiet for a minute or so, giving Dom the time to think things over. “Maybe I just needed someone tonight.” She paused, closing her eyes to make speaking her mind a bit easier. “It’s hard to keep from being paranoid when you see something like that, y’know?”

Tyrell turned, eyebrow raised in confusion. “And so you trusted me to keep you company?”

Dom laughed. “Are you not trustworthy?”

Tyrell laughed back, but more in surprise than amusement. “No! Are you kidding?” 

The two laughed together, then each quickly found a reason to stop. Then, the feeling in Tyrell’s chest grew stronger.

“Fuck, what is that?” He put his hand toward the pain, frowning.

“What’s what?” Dom sat up, concerned.

“I don’t know, it’s like--... It’s like an emotion, but it hurts. Physically, it hurts.”

“Oh, I’ve had that too.” Dom leaned back in her seat, studying Tyrell’s face. “Do you know what you were thinking about when it started?”

“It was--…” He pondered. “It was when you were wrapping up my hand.”

“Okay, but what were you thinking about?”

Tyrell leaned back against the couch, staring at the ceiling, and thinking back as well as he could. “I was--...” His mind wandered between different images, and different possibilities. First, he thought of Dom, and how undeserving he was of her help. He felt the gun lurch as it made contact with her skull, and felt the vibrations on his shoes as the chair slammed against the wall. Then, he thought of his home, seeing all he had left of his old life shattered into pieces, and knowing how he’d just neglected to think it was a possibility. Then, almost unwillingly, he thought of Sharon Knowles. He felt hands around her throat, and the power he became partnered with in that moment. He saw her face, and thought of the fear and desperation she must have felt, although he couldn’t feel it himself. The pain got stronger at that thought, but that couldn’t have been it. He never cared about Sharon. She meant nothing to him, and he was nothing but a toy to her. 

“Is it that bad, hon?” Dom said, breaking his concentration.

Only then did he notice that he was crying. Nothing in the room seemed real. “It’s my fault.” He whispered, the pain in his chest growing uncontrollably and inexplicable terror gripping his throat, preparing to strangle him.

“What’s your fault? Why would you say that?” Dom paused, and then put a hand on the side of his face, turning it toward her. “Hey, look here.”

Tyrell’s eyes were frenetic, shifting all around the room, but eventually they did land on Dom.

“What’s your fault?” Her voice was compassionate, but that only made it more difficult.  
His eyes squeezed shut, acting as a barrier for what he dreaded. “Sharon Knowles.” He whimpered out.

Dom’s hand dropped, and something heavy appeared in her stomach. She knew exactly what he was about to say. 

“I killed Sharon Knowles.” He wept, his shoulders crushing inward as he put his head in his hands, and left Dom alone to deal with the consequences of what he just admitted.

Dom was silent. What could she have said, after being alerted to the fact that the man in her home was not only a terrorist, but a murderer?

“And this is what I get for it.” His body shook, his speech muffled into his hands. “Scott Knowles lost his wife, and now I’ve lost Joanna.”

Dom stood from the couch and stepped back, keeping a hand on her gun, that panic returning. 

“It’s my fault!” Tyrell shouted, fully collapsing forward with his hands over his head, and his sobbing was once again the only thing that kept away the silence. 


	7. Going Home

Darlene’s legs moved on their own, her eyes and mind locked on her phone screen, fingers shaking as she sent her brother message after message. 

they own us

dude seriously were fucked

pick up your fucking phone

this is important asshole

ffs get out of there they own us

Her steps became harder, and faster, and her lungs were engulfed in flames. Her cracked brain forced images of an empty apartment, everything shattered, Elliot’s body, bloodied and bruised with a bullet lodged in his skull. 

JESUS CHRIST GET THE FUCK OUT OF TH

She bumped into a very important businessman, and her phone was knocked from her hand, and dropped to the concrete. She didn’t even look at him, his angry shouting turning to meaningless humming, as she went straight for the phone, tears dripping like blood from a wound. She turned it over, and the screen had shattered. Still, she was overcome with relief. The text was marked as read, and someone was typing. She sat against the brick wall beside her, trying to control her breathing, and the very important businessman walked along to some very meaningless location. Someone responded.

30min. meet at the last place you would ever want to go back to.

Home. They were meeting at home. She nodded, then pulled herself onto her feet, heart still pounding into her skull. As she made her way to the subway, and night slowly fell upon her, she breathed deep, and full breaths, and Dom’s words echoed in her mind.

“Everything’s gonna be okay. All you gotta do is breathe. Can you do that for me?” She said, loving and compassionate. “I do appreciate that you’re trying.”

She followed her old instructions, and breathed as well as she could. Elliot was fine, and he would surely have a plan. He always did, or at least he was always able to pretend he did. He had confidence, but with enough uncertainty to seem real. That’s what she needed. In thirty minutes’ time, she arrived at her old house. It wasn’t the safest place, mentally. There were some good memories, mostly with Elliot, but the bad outnumbered the good by far too wide a margin. Still, it wasn’t her mother that she was waiting for, and that thought kept her from being hopeless. So, she sat against the fence, and waited, her lungs shrinking as each minute went by. After ten, Mr. Robot sat quietly beside her. 

“What happened?”

She squeaked, not having noticed him sit down. “Christ, Elliot!” She smacked him on the shoulder, and he didn’t react. “You can’t just sneak up on me like that.”

“Sorry.” He continued to stare forward, unfeeling. “What happened?” He asked again.

Darlene felt a chill, and her stomach turned. “I don’t want to talk to you. I want to talk to Elliot.” She was very firm, but the words still seemed odd to her.

“Elliot’s currently out of commission.” He finally turned to her. “He thought he’d killed you.”

Her heart dropped. “Oh my God…” She thought back on her messages, and how desperate she was. Then, she looked up at Mr. Robot. “Can he see me right now?”

He nodded. “Yeah, he’s right over there.” He looked in the general direction of a mail post. 

This all felt so strange to her, like she was talking to a ghost, but that wasn’t important right now. She gave the mail post a compassionate look. “I’m so sorry. I’m okay, I promise. I was having an attack again.”

Mr. Robot laughed that cold laugh of his, and Darlene felt a spark of rage. “You’re sort of talking to his arm, but I think he gets the point.” He leaned back against the fence behind him, seeming to calm down a bit himself. “Still, we should talk business. What happened?”

Darlene ripped her gaze away from the post and down to the ground, then she attempted to collect herself. “Okay so, we went to Tyrell’s.”

Mr. Robot nodded. “Yeah, I got that bit.”

“And the place was trashed. Like, literally everything was broken.”

“Well, that doesn’t mean anything. The guy probably threw a tantrum--”

“Right, of course that was our first thought, but he told us to go into his bedroom.” She paused, the image making her nauseous. “And someone spray-painted a red dragon on his wall.”

“Oh, shit.” Mr. Robot leaned forward, eyes locked on the ground, strategies already blooming in his brain.

“Right?” She looked over at him, desperate for answers.

He was quiet for a moment, collecting the information into a neat pile. “Where are Tyrell and Dom?”

Darlene slammed back against the fence, realizing her mistake. “I left her alone with him.” Her fists clenched, and her mind focused on not panicking.

“She’ll be fine.” He claimed sternly, as quickly as he could. “She has a gun.”

“So does he!” She thought back to Dom’s words again, though they were critical this time.

“She’s better at using it than him. She’ll be fine, Darlene. Now, focus.”

Darlene nodded, leaning back forward. “Okay, so what do we do?”

“We get rid of Tyrell. Remove him from the operation.” He nodded, as if validating his own words. “He’s too much of a risk. They could get him to flip.”

“Why would he flip?”

“Because he’s weak, Darlene. He’ll do anything anyone asks of him.” His words were suddenly heated, his eyes pointed at hers like weapons. “We’re better than that.”

Darlene shrank away from him. “Well, then why’s he on our side in the first place?”

Mr. Robot shrugged, retracting his glare, giving Darlene some much-needed room to breathe. “Getting him on was Elliot’s idea. I don’t know what he’s thinking.”

Darlene sighed, sending a glance at the mail post, then back to the ground. “Who does?” She thought about the plan for a few, difficult moments. Mr. Robot told her that he and Elliot were working together again, but how could she know that’s true? How could she know that Elliot wasn’t trapped behind that horrible glare? There was no way to know who she was really helping. But, this was bigger than the three of them, than the five. The Dark Army needed to die, and if this was the only way--... “Okay. Let’s go fire Tyrell Wellick.”


	8. Horror Vacui pt.2

Tyrell fell against the couch cushion, desperate for a change in feeling, but still, the air was heavier than he could bear. He felt paralyzed. His fingers moved, but it seemed as if his thoughts were happening after his actions, like his sight was lagging. Everything was numb and muffled, yet exaggerated, like every noise was lazily screaming itself into his mind. 

At the same time, Dom felt nothing but regret. She regretted being so gullible as to let Darlene pull her into this, to let Elliot persuade her, to let Tyrell into her compassion. Her past was wrapping itself around her throat, and dragging her mind to the gun at her hip. It was her only advantage. Really, she only needed to think of this as a job, as a sting. Here, she had an emotionally unstable man who was armed, so, cornering him will do nothing but make him violent. What she needed to do was reason with him, talk him down, with a readied hand on her weapon in case he drew his.

“Tyrell?”

He stayed a whimpering lump on the couch.

“Tyrell, why don’t you hand me your gun. It’s not safe for you to have it right now.”

The room went silent. Tyrell slowly uncurled and gave Dom a shaking, tearful look, filled with some extreme emotion she couldn’t quite read. It was somewhere between terror and rage. Her job was to remove both of them.

“It’s alright. You’re safe. I’m not gonna hurt you, I just don’t want you hurting yourself.”

The emotion faded into a blank mask, and Tyrell sat up, staring at the wall in front of him. The mask looked bitter and cold.

“Just open your jacket. I’ll take it out. Is that alright.”

His lip twitched upward, and a few tears ran down his face, but no other emotion was revealed as he lifted the left side of his jacket. 

Dom stepped carefully over, keeping her eyes locked on Tyrell’s right hand, which was wholly immobile. She quickly glanced to the silver glint, and slipped the gun out of Tyrell’s pocket. Then, she retreated. 

Tyrell was unphased, as if nothing had changed. He didn’t even move to close his jacket, simply staring, with growing emptiness, at the wall in front of him.

Dom expected to feel relief, but only felt her compassion for the man grow. It was clear to her that he wasn’t the sort of person that could handle loss of this measure. Joanna’s death had broken him. “Hey, hon, that couch is a pull out.” 

His eyes flicked suddenly to her, bitterness fading into the shattered confusion that he had shown before. “Wh--... What?” He breathed out.

“The couch you’re sitting on pulls out into a bed. I can get it set up for you if you want.” She said very simply, slipping Tyrell’s gun into her own jacket.

“I just--... You know what I--...”  
“Do you want the bed or not?” She was frustrated, but she wasn’t sure who with.

Tyrell nodded, desperate, then stood.

The pull-out mattress was less than luxurious, but it was still more than Tyrell expected after the events that preceded. This must have been more than it appeared. Perhaps it was an ambush. She did disarm him, perhaps that was preparation. At any moment, people would bust into the apartment and grab him by each arm, pulling him violently out the door. She must have been calling them in right now. He shuddered, tensed, then rushed down the hall that Dom had disappeared through, eyes peeled for anything he could use as weaponry. He heard footsteps, and ducked into an open door. Dom walked past holding a pile of linens, surely with some evil motive in her heart. He had but seconds before his absence was noticed. He stealthed his way down the hall until he came across her bedroom. Of course, it appeared average, with it’s disorderly design and sheer lack of damning evidence, but that was only the surface level. There must have been something in here that he could use to defend himself. Something he could--

“Tyrell?”

Tyrell swung around, grabbing the largest object he could reach, an old hairdryer from atop her dresser.

Dom raised a brow, stifling a laugh. “What are you--...?”

“I know what you’re doing.” He walked toward her with a menacing glare, keeping his hand tight against the hairdryer. Anything was better than nothing, he thought. “All this, it’s to trick me, isn’t it?”

Her eyes widened, amusement turning more toward fear. “Tyrell, you’re being paranoid. I’m just trying to help.” She chose her words carefully. She didn’t want to have to shoot anyone today.

“Why!?” Tyrell yelled, his anger appearing suddenly uncontrollable as he stepped further toward her.

She stepped back, dropping her pile of linens. “Why do I need a reason?”

“I don’t understand.” His eyes were wide and unblinking, tears pooling. “I don’t understand.” He repeated, dropping his weapon onto the floor, still approaching.

“Look, I just--...” Dom stopped retreating, though refused to look him in the eye. She spoke slowly. “I’ve been in the FBI long enough to know that people like you, they don’t get better by people hurting them more.”

Tyrell stopped too, his expression softening into something less defensive, and more painful. People like you. Those words were like knives.

“You don’t just wake up one day and decide to be a bad person. You’re made that way by the people in your life. And those people had the same thing done to them.” 

Tyrell looked away. He wanted to contribute to the conversation, but no words came to mind, and the empty chasm inside him was filled with something unpleasant. Though, it was filling nonetheless.

“So, basically, don’t worry about it.” Dom attempted a smile, though her sorrowful eyes broke the mask of sunshine. “Get some sleep. Maybe you’ll feel better in the morning.” She wandered to her bed with a calm expression, giving him a pat on the shoulder as she passed him by. Then, when she turned, Tyrell -- along with the linens -- was gone. 


	9. Joie De Vivre

It had been a long time since Tyrell was woken by the sound of human footsteps, or the murmuring of a television. It was an unfamiliar feeling, that momentary confusion, then comfort, then sudden reality. He lifted his head and observed the room, which looked a lot warmer with daylight fanning in. Dom’s red velvet hair was absolutely radiant. She sat at her kitchen table, eating noodles from a box, and staring blankly out the window, her firearm hung uselessly off of her hip. She was thinking. She must have been thinking about him. He sat up, and simply stared for a minute, waiting for her to notice, but she never did. 

“Good morning.” He called.

Dom turned, slightly surprised in her drowsy state. “Oh, hey. G’morning.” She smiled softly, then turned back out the window, paying him no mind.

Tyrell frowned, but he couldn’t place why.

“Do you want something to ea--...” She turned back, and saw no one there. She noted that the suit that he had carefully folded into a pile the night prior had disappeared with him. Then, she heard the sound of the shower, and, even with her sluggish early-morning mind, made the connection. Still, she wandered to the kitchen, set a pan on the stove, and grabbed a few eggs from the refrigerator. It was only after the eggs had begun frying that the thought occurred to her that he might not like them, or he might be vegan, or simply her cooking abilities weren’t up to his standards. Still, if he didn’t eat them, God knows she probably would. 

He’d been in the shower for a long time. Those eggs were definitely cold by now. She sighed deeply and leaned against the kitchen counter, defeated. She couldn’t even cook an egg right. 

Tyrell walked out of the bathroom and down the hall, dressed to the nines as always, his hair fixed into a perfect position. He smiled at her, but she knew it was fake. His eyes didn’t move whatsoever, just his lips. 

Still, she smiled back, trying to fake hers a little better. “I cooked you some eggs.” She gestured half-heartedly at the plate on the counter. “They’re a little cold, but I could heat ‘em up for you.”

Tyrell’s eyebrows twitched, knitting into that same confusion for just a moment, then they went back. “Sure, thanks.” He nodded with that fake smile of his, and sat at the kitchen’s island. 

“You doing okay?” She slipped the plate carefully into the microwave. “It’s alright if you’re not. You don’t have to pretend. Yesterday was--”

“You think I’m pretending?” He asked blankly, avoiding her question, the fake smile fading from his lips.

Dom glanced back at him. “Yeah, I do.” 

“You’re a very confusing person, you know that?” Tyrell leaned onto the bar, brows furrowing. 

“I’ve never heard that, but I could believe it.” She set the plate in front of him and a fork beside it. “Bon appetit.” 

“Je vous remercie, Mademoiselle.” Tyrell gave her a grin, genuine this time, and started eating his breakfast.

She laughed, then walked around to his side of the island, giving him a light shove as she passed. “Show off.” 

He scoffed jokingly, then continued to eat his breakfast.

“So, as I asked earlier.” She sat next to him, sending him a well-meaning glare.

He shot her a glance, then lost his warm demeanor. “I’m fine.”

Her glare didn’t cease, and the room was silent for a moment.

He continued the silence, repositioning the eggs on his plate for a few seconds before he became frustrated with her expression. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“Whatever it is you feel--...”

“What the fuck does that mean?” His fork rang loudly against his plate, and his glare was driven into Dom’s eyes. “My son is four thousand miles away, my wife is dead! And you’re asking me what I feel?! I feel like shit! I feel like everything I had has been taken from me because it fucking has! Can we stop fucking talking about it!?”

Dom leaned back from him, grabbing tightly onto the side of the bar. “I--... I’m sorry, I--...”

“Yeah.” Tyrell looked back to his breakfast, and decidedly ignored Dom’s existence. 

She turned, and rested her arms against the counter, staring thoughtfully forward. She was uneasy, nauseated by the idea of what Tyrell could think of her now. But, why did it matter what he thought? Was she really that lonely these days, that the opinion of Tyrell Wellick was her major concern? She glanced at him.

He glanced back, still furious, then tossed his empty plate into the sink and walked back over to the bed. 

That discomfort only increased as she slid down from her stool. “Tyrell.”

He looked down at the floor, perhaps wishing that his glare would simply light the carpet ablaze.

“I don’t have any way of understanding how you’re feeling right now, alright? I just--...”  
“I told you I didn’t want to talk about it.”

“I know! I know, but--”   
“But nothing! I’m not gonna fucking talk about it!”

“Tyrell, you can’t just--!”

There was a furious knock at the door. The two froze, staring, first toward the knock, then at each other.

They knocked again, and Dom gave Tyrell a desperate look, mouthing the word ‘hide.’

He did as he instructed, rushing into the dark room he had hid in before, and one more knock rang out before Dom answered the door.

She sighed in relief when, behind it, she saw Elliot and Darlene. “What are you two--...”

Mr. Robot pushed past her and started searching the apartment. “Where is he?”

Darlene gave Dom an apologetic look, then followed after her brother.

“What the f--... You mean Tyrell?” 

“Who the fuck else!?” He screamed, shooting Dom a look of disbelief.

“He’s hiding down that hall! For fucks sake!” She gestured.

Darlene immediately rushed after him.

“Hold on!” Mr. Robot called out to Darlene to no response, then he looked to Dom. “Does he have a gun?”

“Wh--... What?”

“Just answer the fucking question!”

“No!”

“Do you?”  
“Yeah, it’s--”

“Good.” Mr. Robot turned to the hall, where Darlene was now dragging Tyrell towards him.

“Can someone explain what the fuck is happening?” Tyrell looked to Dom, who had no answers.

Mr. Robot let the silence settle in for a moment before stepping toward Tyrell, at which point Darlene cleared out, giving Dom a side glance. Something very dangerous was about to happen, and Dom was terrified of the consequences.

“Tyrell.” His voice was as cold as it usually was, but there was this fear in it now that was only slightly detectable. “I heard about what happened back at your apartment, and I’m very sorry about that.”

Tyrell stood like he was seconds away from being attacked, his hands placed against the wall in fear, his eyes wide, and locked squarely on the man in front of him. He remained still, and said nothing.

“But I’m afraid now that you’ve been targeted specifically, you’re too much of a risk.”

“What?” Tyrell frowned, confused again, but in a far different way this time. “I don’t understand.”

“You can’t be a part of this anymore. You’re risking this whole operation.”

His hands released from the wall, and he stepped forward, his expression shifting. “What are you saying?”

Mr. Robot was unphased. “I think I’ve been quite clear.”

“This is bullshit.” Tyrell paced away, then paced back, his breathing becoming heavy. “This is fucking bullshit!” He swung his arm, grabbing Mr. Robot by the front of his shirt and slamming him into the wall. The room shook with the impact.

Darlene stepped quickly toward the two. “Get your hands off my fucking brother, you piece of shit!”

Tyrell turned to look at her, mania in his eyes. “You really think this--... This motherfucker is your brother!?” His grip tightened and his glare aimed back at him. “No! It’s not your brother and it’s not Elliot! It’s the psychopath that ruined my fucking life!”

“This is exactly what I’m talking about, Darlene. He’s a risk.”

“I’ll show you a fucking risk!” Tyrell grasped Mr. Robot by the throat and closed it, pushing him tightly and violently against the wall.

He struggled, clamoring against his grip, but to no avail.

Dom stepped forward and grabbed Tyrell’s shoulder. “Tyrell, stop.” She demanded, her voice wavering in fear. “You have to stop.”

His grip released immediately, and Mr. Robot fell to the floor, half-conscious. 


	10. Motivations

Tyrell’s idle hands twitched. Gripping a human throat, the rough texture of a windpipe, and a pulse that quickened the more the grip was tightened -- it was an odd feeling, but one he was surprisingly accustomed to. His eyes narrowed, then softened, and he fell to his knees. 

Mr. Robot’s eyes flickered to life, just barely awake, and stared lightly up at him. His lips parted, his throat jumped, but he was interrupted by a fit of coughs, which doubled him over.

“I want to talk to Elliot.” Tyrell said through gritted teeth, finding difficulty holding himself together. He thought of Dom, and what she must think of him. 

In reality, she was only confused, more so now by Tyrell’s words.

“Now.” He demanded, leaning in closer.

“Fine.” Mr. Robot answered quickly with a rough voice, followed by a barrage of coughs. “He’s not fond of you either. I hope you know that.”

His heart was speared, but he wouldn’t let it show, not for the life of him. Elliot’s alter truly knew how to hurt him, didn’t he?

Mr. Robot’s eyes wandered, flickered, then went out, and Elliot came to. He coughed, and grabbed his own throat, then sent Tyrell a stare that shook him more deeply than anything Mr. Robot could throw at him. “Wh--... Where--...” He stammered, eyes bouncing about the room, then settling on Darlene.

She shifted uncomfortably at his stare, her eyes hesitating to make contact. 

“You texted me.”   
She finally looked back. “What?”

“Just now, you--... Or before he took control, you texted me. He wouldn’t let me see it.”

“Hold on, who wouldn’t?” Dom finally entered. “Nobody’s making sense.”

Tyrell took a few steps backwards and set an arm around Dom’s shoulders, his eyes locked on Elliot. He whispered in her ear.

The shock was clear on her face for just a moment, then it faded to understanding. Suddenly many things were explained. She gave Elliot a compassionate glance, which did nothing but make him uncomfortable.

He looked away without saying a thing. “Darlene, what did you text me?”

“After what happened to Tyrell, I--”

“What happened to Tyrell?”  
Darlene was silent, and looked to the man in question.

He quickly looked to Dom.

She sighed, then spoke. “Dark Army. They were in his house.”

“How do you know?”

“They destroyed it. Left their symbol in his bedroom.”

Elliot pulled tightly on the front pocket of his hoodie, his mind filling with paranoia and regret. “So where are we now?”

“My apartment. I brought Tyrell here for the night and Darlene--”

Elliot’s eyes shot up. “What did you talk about?”

Dom looked up at Tyrell, who was no less confused than she was.

“You didn’t say anything sensitive, did you?” The pulling turned to a tight, constant grasp.

They both shook their heads, and Tyrell spoke. “Nothing they wouldn’t already know.”

“Why?”

Elliot put his hand inside the pocket he’d been pulling, and held a small device. He sent a look Darlene’s way, and she pulled another from her bag, which was already activated. 

“You think my apartment’s bugged?” Dom questioned, pulling away from Tyrell and walking toward Darlene. She grabbed the object from her and inspected it, just to be sure her foreknowledge wasn’t faulty.

“It’s always a possibility.” He answered. “The Dark Army knows what we know. We can hurt their--”

“Shut up.” Tyrell, having felt jilted by Dom’s sudden abandonment, felt the fires of rage return, and was now heading back over to Elliot. “This doesn’t solve the issue. Why the fuck did he want to get rid of me?”

Elliot backed up against the wall, having difficulty keeping his eyes on Tyrell.

“He said I was a risk. What the fuck does that mean?”

“How should he know, dumbass? Why don’t you ask the person who didn’t just wake up here?” Darlene said, her words unwavering. She did fear him, at some deep, evolutionary level, but she knew what he was. He was violent because he was scared, angry because he was childish. She knew the feeling well.

Still, he turned, sending her an intimidating glare that only she knew was meaningless.

“He was afraid of you flipping to their side. Said you were gullible, easy to manipulate. Honestly, I agree with him.”

“Bullshit.”  
“Well, he seemed to manipulate you well enough. So did the Dark Army.”

“Oh, like he didn’t do the same! Like he wasn’t manipulated! He thought that only one building would go down!”

“So, you knew it’d be seventy-one, and you still did everything they said!”

“I did what I had to do.”

“You did what they told you to do.”

Tyrell went silent, sliding his hands down his face. He glanced at Elliot, who was staring blankly forward, seeming to ignore the conversation.

“It doesn’t matter anyway.” Elliot said, “Tyrell has to be a part of this.”

“Why?!” Darlene had actually looked forward to getting rid of Tyrell. He had been nothing but trouble so far.

“Because they’re still using him. If we don’t have him, they’ll take him. Same with me, same with Dom.”

“I’ll never do anything for them again. They’re nothing to me now.”

“If they want to use you, they will.” Darlene said with a distant pain, “They’ll find something to use against you.”  
Tyrell paced, trying to contain the pressure of his rage, but only becoming more frustrated the more he did so. “They’ve already taken everything from me. What can they threaten me with now?”

Dom shifted, and caught Tyrell’s hand as he passed by her. “Your son, Tyrell.” She spoke very softly, trying all she could to not spike even more anger.

He stopped, and held her hand tightly, forcing himself to keep his grip gentle as the thoughts came and passed. He remained silent, his lack of argument enough to tell the others that she was right.

“So, we have to stay together.” Darlene leaned against the wall, disappointed, yet sated.

Elliot glanced at her, then looked away, pulling himself into the smallest space he could. “Well, Tyrell does. Dom does.”  
She crossed her arms. “What’re you talking about, Elliot?”

“You’re not bound to this, Darlene. You don’t have to--”

“We’ve already discussed this, Elliot. You’re not gonna get rid of me.”

Elliot glanced at Darlene, then at Dom, then disappeared again. “It’s not worth you getting killed.”  
Darlene went silent, and Dom, although she felt the need to speak, did the same.


	11. The Plan

As quickly as he appeared, Elliot faded again into his realm of non-reality, and another man emerged. It was obvious, of course, to his sister. She could tell from the cold, dark void that opened up where his eyes used to be. For Tyrell it took a short while longer to notice. For him it wasn’t a change in appearance, it was a change in feeling; in the air of the room. When Mr. Robot looked at him, his mind buzzed, his chest felt cold and his lungs restricted. In a moment, his thoughts moved from love and longing to fear and contempt. Dom remained completely unaware. She was still picking apart his actions, categorizing them carefully into a left and a right.

“Tyrell has to stay here for a while, can you handle that?” Mr. Robot stared through Dom.

She nodded, though hesitant, and released Tyrell’s hand. “Sure. Of course.” 

Tyrell, almost passively, laid an arm across Dom’s shoulders and pulled her closer, eyes cast downward, void of purpose.

Dom allowed this, though she did become increasingly concerned. She felt quite self-absorbed in thinking it, but she feared that Tyrell was developing feelings for her. The sound of his hopeless weeping echoed in her mind. He couldn’t handle being let down again.

“Good.” Mr. Robot thought nothing of this interaction, and moved onto pacing aimlessly, partaking in a discussion of grand importance that would be heard by no one.

Darlene was paying very close attention. What had happened between them? A day ago Dom thought of him as a menace to society, and now they were acting like a couple of newlyweds. She felt a pang of jealousy strike her chest. This was far more important than any conspiracy could ever be.

“So, what’s next?” Tyrell asked. “What do you need us to do?”

“Infiltrate.” Mr. Robot continued to pace, not acknowledging the others, performing for any audience who might be watching. “The only way to take down something as big and powerful as the Dark Army is to rot them from the inside. Eat away at them until they’re structurally unsound enough to simply fall to pieces.”

“How do you expect us to do that?”

“Well, you use the ones with the most connections.” He stopped, giving Dom and Tyrell an empty stare. “That’d be you two.”

Tyrell’s lungs shrank with unease, and his grip on Dom tightened.

“Tyrell Wellick, CTO of E-Corp, and Agent Dominique DiPierro, FBI. Both have something the Dark Army can use to force them to do their bidding. What do we do with that?”

Dom hesitated, her mind ringing with fear, but still, she spoke. “I could feed you information. I might not have a lot of it, since I haven’t shown loyalty so far, but--”

“Exactly.” Mr. Robot interrupted, his eye contact blinding. “They have to know you’re reliable before you’re not. If they don’t trust you, you’re just another know-nothing grunt. Tyrell they should have no problem with. He’s already a reliable know-nothing grunt.”

Tyrell’s lungs set ablaze again, and his free hand formed to a fist. “I’ll do nothing for them. Not for your sake, not for mine--...”

“Do we have to explain this to you again? If you don’t do what they say, you’re fucked!”  
Tyrell’s temper aimed itself once again to Darlene. He pulled away from Dom to head toward her, but stopped when Dom grabbed his arm. 

“She’s right, hon. I don’t wanna do anything for them either, trust me, but we have to.” 

He closed his eyes, anger dipping shallowly into despair, then disappearing entirely. “So what do I do?” His speech was dull and empty.

“While I do think Elliot could have found someone else far less complicated to work with for the job, I do see why he picked you. Your main strengths are deception, manipulation, and intimidation, am I correct?”

Tyrell nodded, his energy boosted slightly by what he perceived was a compliment.

“So, that’s your job. Deceive the Dark Army by planting flaws in what they have you code, manipulate lesser employees at E-Corp if needed, and intimidate anyone who gets in our way, just like you did Dom.”

His shoulders tensed, and his eyes fixed on anything that wasn’t human; although the reaction he imagined Dom having was actually far more extreme than the truth.

“So then what will you and I be doing?” Darlene asked in a particularly loud voice, assuming the rest of the room had forgotten about her.

Mr. Robot hadn’t forgot. “We’ll have plenty to do. Don’t worry about that.”

His words were shallow, and Darlene was becoming increasingly anxious as she uncontrollably picked out each possible meaning, no matter how horrific. Never did she think that trusting her own brother would be this difficult, but then again, was he really Elliot? They didn’t grow up together. They didn’t build Kevin McCalister together, nor watch him melt together. They didn’t feel the pain of a parent that was completely and utterly hopeless together. No. They destroyed the world together. 

“For now, let’s focus on the infiltrators.” He began pacing again, utterly unaware of Darlene’s struggle. “You’ll both likely get called in very soon, and when they ask you to do something, do it. Never make any indication that you’re out to get them. That means no violence, Tyrell.”

With a deep, frustrated breath, Tyrell nodded.

“From now on any contact we need to make will be in person. We’ll meet up as needed in the vacant apartment. Are there any questions?”  
There were many questions, but still, no response.

“Good. Darlene and I will be at home base. Tell us when the Dark Army contacts you.” Without so much as a glance, Mr. Robot walked out of Dom’s apartment.

Darlene hesitated for a moment, eyes wide, staring cautiously at her two new coworkers, then she followed after him, leaving nothing in her wake but a cold silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Not sure if/when I'll continue this, but it will go here as well as the amino when/if the time comes.


End file.
